


He was sure

by Lord_Risley



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Feels, First Love, M/M, Why did I do this awful thing?, oh the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4791617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Risley/pseuds/Lord_Risley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I love you" Sherlock said for only the second time in his life. He was still sure...ish. </p><p>"As a friend..." John replied slowly, nodding his head in an attempt to get a nod of agreement from Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He was sure

He was sure...well, as sure as he could be. For weeks he had observed John at every possibility, the little smiles, the bumps to his shoulders and that one rather memorable time that he had thumped a guy the size of a tractor because he'd called Sherlock a 'Fucking weirdo'. He was sure...as much as he could be. 

 

Sherlock paced the living room carpet, he wouldn't be surprised if there was a worn line in the pattern by the time John returned home. How long had it been? Sherlock paused. It felt like an eternity but his phone told him it was only two hours and twenty two minutes. His watch said the same thing. Could they both be wrong? It was unlikely unless somebody other than him had manipulated them to synchronize at an incorrect time....more unlikely. He resumed his pacing, precisely six long strides and then a sharp turn. Where was John?! He was sure...ish. 

 

For years they had joked, well John joked while he himself had just made dismissive noises and raised a brow. They had knocked back the strange comments and laughed off the innuendo, they knew the truth. That truth had become something more though, something they repeated at every opportunity, again mainly John, and something they would find amusing. It became a joke and a parody of itself. John was straight and Sherlock was...he was unknown though the press and their friends had their theories that ranged from him being a frigid virgin, to a traumatic past relationship and then on to being an asexual being that saw nothing but his work. They were all wrong, so very wrong. He had never seen the need to verbalise his every thought and emotion. Why did people see the need to be such emotional and vulnerable creatures? A complete puzzlement. He had feelings, of course he did, They were just not as exuberant as others, not as forthwith and obvious. For the first time in his life he was about to do something new and terrifying. He was sure so why was it so terrifying? He waved a hand in the air, a dismissive gesture. He could not start to second guess himself now, he was sure. 

 

The click of a key, the turn of a lock and there he was. Time to put on the mask, the mask of a normal person with normal feelings and an understanding of their complex and tedious emotions. 

"Alright mate?" John smiled and shrugged off his damp jacket, draping it over the arm of the sofa. 

"John. Have a seat, I need to talk to you" He tried a smile but looked like a nervous and very hungry hyena 

John sort of smirked but sat down on the sofa, pushing the cushion out the way first and then looked expectantly at Sherlock. "Yesssssss?" 

Sherlock strode over, perched as far away from John as he could, smoothing down his shirt as a momentary distraction from the impending awkwardness 

The moments turned into minutes which stretched painfully into tens of minutes. John was used to Sherlock by now but even he had limits. As they reached eleven minutes he coughed into his clenched fist. "Sherlock? I kinda have things to do so.....Could we speed this up a little?" 

He gave John a look, a look he reserved only for John, a look that conveyed so much contempt and disdain...but also affection. 

"Fine. The short abbreviated version, your request" He edged a little closer to John, bouncing along the sofas edge. "We've been partners now for over three years, not always together and not always in perfect synchronicity" Small smile of apology there. "But partners we have been" 

"Sure mate" John looked at him almost sympathetically as though he could see how much this pained the other man to talk of such things. "I'll always be here for you, you know that, who else would put up with your shit?" He chuckled. 

Sherlock smiled wryly. True, it was all true. That's why he was sure, so sure. Nobody understood him like John did, nobody tolerated him like John did (Though there were frequent threats of violence toward his person) 

"The thing is.." he started, with a nervous fidget of his hands, turning his phone about in his hands and moving ever closer to John "You know more about me than any other man ever has...Any person ever has" he corrected himself. "And I more about you-" 

"Than I actually wanted you to know" John interrupted with a little grin 

"Yes, apologies. A deduction too far on occasion.. The thing....the thing.." 

"Sherlock, can we get to the point?" John checked his watch yet again. "I need a shower and a have, I have a date in an hour" 

Date? The word stuck in his chest like a knife in a wound. No. He was sure. 

"John I love you!" He blurted out before all courage left him and the moment was lost, left to torment only him in his waking hours with the 'what could have beens'. 

John grinned but it wasn't an exuberant happy sort of thing, it was an 'oh shit, what the fuck is going on? Keep smiling until you think of a response' sort of smile and he edged backwards. "What?" 

"I love you" Sherlock said for only the second time in his life. He was still sure...ish. 

"As a friend..." John replied slowly, nodding his head in an attempt to get a nod of agreement from Sherlock. 

"N-no. I love you..I love you in way both...both..." Now or never Sherlock, just how sure are you? Are you willing to risk it all or risk a life alone through your silence? "I love you with all I know how to and all I have to give and to receive. It is Eros and passion and desire and naïve and faithful. I love you John Watson" Somehow he had moved so much closer to John, but John, John he was cowering in a corner of the sofa, pushing himself into the cushions and looking at Sherlock with a look of abject horror and, oh God, that was repulsion. 

"Sherlock" he even held up a hand to ward off any unwanted advances, the look of panic intensifying "I'm not gay...you know that's surely you know that by now. I have a date...with a woman" 

"B-but...you've always dated women, it never lasts, you've been with me longer than any woman you ever dated"

John was now scrabbling like a dog being pushed toward a bath, he was almost up and away, out of the sofa and gone, possibly forever. 

"John. I love you!" he repeated desperately, a wild look in his eyes because his was all wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, not at all, he been sure, so very sure. 

"Sherlock!" John was up and out of the seat now, hand held up in-between them, a sure sign to come no further. "You are my friend...my best friend, but I. Am. Not. Gay. Are you hearing me?" 

Oh he heard him. He heard in stereo, he heard him in ways he had never known. The words reverberated through his body, they burrowed deep inside him, they repeated inside his mind over and over again in some cruel, stuttering loop. Each word was hitting him like a physical blow, a painful jolt of energy, coursing through him. 

"You don't love me?" He said in a voice that sounded surprisingly calm to himself. 

John was still backing away, almost out the room now. "I...You're my friend and I value that friendship strongly but...friends is all we'll ever be" 

He was sure, he was sure, he was nearly sure, he was nearly sure, he was sure-ish, he was hopeful, he was delusional, he was wrong....He was wrong. Physically, he seemed to hunch over, tense each muscle in turn as he built himself a wall that would extend to his mind, a wall that would protect him. Hands clenched and unclenched and he found a crumb on the floor to aim his gaze at. "I apologise John. Clearly I was mistaken. You should get in the shower, mustn't keep your date waiting. This might be 'the one' after all" He tried but failed to keep the sarcasm from his voice, the heavy tone of disdain as he strode from the room. John was saying something, stuttering apologies and meaningless platitudes but he didn't hear them, he chose not to hear them. 

He was Sherlock Holmes and he was alone, alone was what he had, alone protected him.

**Author's Note:**

> In a fairly icky state I wrote this in one go. I know it's a little clunky but I've not changed it but kept it as it was. 
> 
> I now hate myself. someone bring me happy immediately!


End file.
